


The Memory Thief

by LondonLane86



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonLane86/pseuds/LondonLane86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leah shouldn't have been drinking that night. She shouldn't have been driving. But she was, and someone died.</p><p>When she meets West,  he offers her an opportunity to erase what she has done.</p><p>But everything in life, as she knows, comes with a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

_After_

 

He shuffles the papers and stares at me over his silver wire-rimmed glasses, and looks at me with a tired expression.  
  
If he's tired, then I'm exhausted. We've been sitting in this room for an hour, and I have told him everything that I remember about that night.  
  
It was dark then, and the snow was coming down hard, and I had been drinking.  
  
I hear the pen scratching against the paper, but I don't look at him. Instead, I look at the floor, at the small ball of dust collecting there, and I step on it with the hell of my boot.  
  
"Leah," he says calmly. "What happened next?"  
  
I tell him what happened after. After the car slammed into the man's body. After it spun so much I thought it wouldn't stop. But then it did, and I could breathe.  
  
I could breathe and I was alive.  
  
I could breathe and I was alive and whole.  
  
I look at my lawyer, my heart pounding in my chest, and whisper, "I didn't mean to kill him."

 


	2. Chapter Two

_Before_

 

"Leah! Hey, wait a second."

I kept walking. I didn't have anything to say to her. Her footsteps were quick behind me. When she touched my arm, I flinched.

"I need to explain," she said. "It wasn't what it looked like."

I whirled around, and pulled out of her grip. "It wasn't?" I snapped. "Then, please, tell me. What did it look like? Because it looked to me as though you were screwing around with—"

"Don't," Dakota hissed, looking around. "Leah, no one can know."

I pulled my brown hair up into a messy bun and glared at her. "Are you serious? You can't do this." I lowered my voice. "He's a teacher."

"But he's so hot."

"You're seventeen!" I yelled.

Dakota smiled, and it was cruel. "Are you seriously judging me for this, Leah?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I told her.

Her blue eyes narrowed and she leaned close. "If you tell my secret, I tell yours."

Then she left me standing in the empty hallway.


	3. Chapter Three

_After_

 

My hands shake as I search for my phone. It's stuck somewhere in my broken car, but I need to find it. I need to call someone.  
  
A sick feeling fills my stomach and throat, and I wonder if I'm going to throw up.  
  
But then I hear it.  
  
The vibration.  
  
The screen lights up, and I see that my phone is on the floor on the passenger side. I grab it and look at the incoming text from Dakota.  
  
 **Where are you?**  
  
My body aches as I pull myself out of the wreckage, then look around. The road is empty, except for the snow and the red droplets.  
  
It's blood.  
  
I use my phone as a flashlight and start to walk, snow crunching under my boots. It's the only sound. The night is still, even the animals are quiet. They all heard the crash, and hid.  
  
I want to hide.  
  
I look at my phone, at the unanswered text, and my eyes fill with tears. I can't tell her what happened. She knew I left after I had a few beers.  
  
I shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel.  
  
There droplets of blood form a trail now, that stretches along the fork in the road.  
  
I go left, and then I see him. He's face down in the snow, his body twisted, bloody, and bruised. He's wearing a big jacket, and I can't see his face. I'm not what I want to.  
  
What if he's someone I know?  
  
That thought fills me with dread.  
  
He isn't moving, and I know why. The impact of the front of the car, his body slamming against the windshield, that's why.  
  
He's dead.  
  
I kneel down in the snow, and the cold crawls up my body, but I barely feel it.  
  
I close my eyes, and the wind howls in my ears.  
  
It whispers _killer_ to me.

 


End file.
